


Are you lonely? (I'll be the only dream you seek)

by Gingersnaps (K___P)



Series: It's not a war crime if you didn't set up the Geneva conventions [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Good morning angst nation, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulation, Post-exile streams, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), borderline suicidal thoughts, cause this poor lad is majorly fucked up in the head rn, just canon typical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27965132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K___P/pseuds/Gingersnaps
Summary: All Tommy wants to now is to be warm. He doesn't want his discs, he doesn't want L'manburg, he ... doesn't want Tubbo. With Wilbur gone, Techno retired, and Phil more absent than ever, he has nothing.Or, well, almost nothing. He still had Dream.OR: tommy has a real bad time, dreams manipulative, and a whole lotta self indulgent "cold" parallels, all because I can't control my little bastard hands
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: It's not a war crime if you didn't set up the Geneva conventions [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991350
Comments: 18
Kudos: 180





	Are you lonely? (I'll be the only dream you seek)

**Author's Note:**

> Me: writes a silly little non-canon oneshot in a silly little canon-based series  
> Me: this will get no attention it is fine  
> The oneshot: becomes one of my top works and my top commented work  
> Me: ah  
> Me: anyway
> 
> Ok so I uhhhhhhh have mocks in a couple weeks and I am not very smart . I need to revise lol I might slow down on writing anything overly long 😗✌️ please be patient and wish me luck

Logstedshire, far out in the ocean and plagued by the beginnings of Winter, was freezing more often than not. A shiver would run down Tommy's arms in the morning, and he would be forced to shrug on a jacket or work indoors to heat up. Even so, the lack of warmth was never-ending, always in the back of his mind.

From what he'd been told, it was not dissimilar to how Wilbur had felt while he was alive. Ghostbur's face had twisted when he mentioned it, form flickering. He hadn't mentioned it again.

But, god, he was cold. Back in New L'manburg, with Tubbo and Niki and Fundy, and more recently Ranboo and Phil, he had been warm. Their bright faces and constant presences were enough to keep the chill at bay, filling his chest with a fuzzy feeling whenever he saw them.

(Now, though, the idea of seeing Tubbo again felt like a bucket of iced water being plunged over his head. It felt like someone was seconds away from dousing a flickering flame in his heart, one that could never be reignited if it went out.

Now, the idea of seeing Tubbo again was undeniably cold. He tried not to dwell too much on it.)

Over time, he spent more and more time in the Nether. He would dance on the knife's edge, sitting on the chests near the portal that would take him back to the SMP. Of course, he never stepped in - why would he, when everyone had left him the moment they could?

Even so, it was a painful tug at the back of his mind, the urge to just _check_ the SMP, to look at the Christmas tree, the decorations, _anything_ , growing stronger and stronger with every passing hour. Besides, what was the wort that Dream could do?

Kill him, once and for all?

Well, he thought bitterly, it wouldn't be the first time his blood's been on the other's hands. They'd come full circle, a cycle of instigation and retaliation.

And then it would all end there, with him.

What would his death be like? Would Dream kill him literally the second he emerged from the portal; has he set up a camp or alarm, just in case he's not there? Would it be quick and impersonal, a one-shot death reminiscent of his first?

Or would he be able to roam free, just for an hour or two, before Dream realised his pet project was missing? Would he be able to see New L'manburg in its festive beauty, explore the new shops that were springing up as he left? Would Dream have to track him down first, before he killed him?

(Would Dream make an example of him, dragging his half-dead body to New L'manburg before finishing him off in front of Tubbo and the rest? Would they even care, or would they just scoff at the waste of time his execution would be?)

\---

Everyone knows that the Nether burns hotter than anywhere else: the End is almost unnatural in its temperate, neither warm nor cold and yet bordering on glacial; the Overworld is varied, but brings about the harshest of winters and the sunniest of springs. 

Wilbur had always preferred houses with large windows that let the sunlight stream in, basking in the warmth of a pleasant summer's day. He had always had a fascination with the Nether, trailing after Techno on his expeditions, seemingly unbothered by the blistering heat. Even in winter, he would curl up by the fireplace, letting it roar all day and well into the night, holding his hands mere inches away from the flames, fixated on their flickering forms.

Phil had always scolded him for it, and Techno had half-joked about a flameguard for the fire, but Wilbur smiled absently. _"I don't like feeling cold"_ , he'd say, and turn back to the fire with the same expression.

Before, Tommy hadn't understood how he could be cold with all his layers on, with his soft yellow sweater and deep red beanie.

But now, even with the heaviness of Wilbur's coat on his shoulder and the glowing lava only a few metres away, he could feel a chill on his neck. Every inch of his body sang for him to move closer, to step into the flames and lava and just be _warm-_

Dream's hand landed on his shoulder, and he sighed.

"Not your time to die, Tommy," he reminded him, sing-song and practiced, as if the thought didn't consume every waking second, consciously made or not. He sighed, stepping away from the pillars of lava (when had he stepped off the path?).

"It's never my time to die," he mumbled in response, and Dream clapped him on the back in a mockery of cheer.

"Good boy. Now let's get moving, yeah? Don't think you could hide that armour from me, Tommy."

He sighed again, even louder, and neither of them commented on the exhaustion in the lines of his shoulders. A grin spread across Dream's face.

\---

Ghostbur is trying his best to be what he's not, trying with all his heart to fill the gap left in Tommy's chest by his brother's death. Even though he looks like Wilbur, and sounds like Wilbur, he's not, and will never be. He's missing a vital part of himself, one that he lost somewhere between life and death.

Tommy's brother has been dead for a long time. Even before his father struck him down, two blows to the chest, he has been a dead man walking.

Seeing Ghostbur is a slap to the face, and yet dredges up all the old feelings he thought he'd buried down with his coffin. There was no knowing how quickly he could forget, how quickly he could not remember who Tommy was or what they fought for.

It was so similar and so different to Alivebur that he wanted to be sick, right down to the shitty mud-covered boots he wore.

He hated it. God, maybe he hated him.

\---

The beach party happens.

\---

He spends almost three, four days setting everything up, making sure it looks just perfect. Even though Tommy refuses to admit it, the idea of seeing Tubbo again gives him nervous jitters; they don't say it, but it's clear through Wilbur's grins and Phil's laughter that they know.

Fundy apologised the second he was in front of Tommy, and didn't stop until they made it to Logstedshire proper. It had been nice to go back to some semblance of normal, filled with Wilbur teasing Fundy and his son reciprocating - actually responding, instead of half-hearted laughs, Tommy never thought he'd love to see the day.

About halfway through the second day, when Wilbur had fucked off to do ghost things and Fundy was fiddling with some projector shit, Phil pulled Tommy aside. Together they worked in the woods for hours on end, chopping down trees and sanding down logs, simple and serene. Neither of them talked, not feeling the need to, and it was ... nice.

"I just wanted to see how you were holdin' up, mate," Phil says quietly, when they're on break, leaning against a felled tree. "Me 'n Techno've been thinking about maybe collectin' some turtles, and we could probably bring 'em over to you if you wanted. I'd imagine that it gets pretty lonely round here, yeah?"

Tommy sighed, and Phil cackled at the put-upom expression he wore. "God, Phil, you don't even know! The only company I ever have is some fuckin' ... ghost fucker, and Dream." He pretends not to see Phil's face crumple at the mention of Wilbur, however brief.

"Plus, like, I don't think Dream even counts. Like, what does he do? Burn my shit? Give me fuckin' pity stuff? Yeah, no." He huffs, burying his head in his arms and glancing up at Phil. Quieter, he says, "so, yeah, I'd like some turtles. If, uh, you have any spare."

A frown crosses Phil's face, mouthing the words 'burn my shit', but he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he nods. "I'm sure Tech would be happy givin' away a couple of 'em. Any idea what you'd name 'em?"

Tommy doesn't even hesitate. "Clementine, obviously."

His grin widens at the sound of Phil's laughter reaching up to the sky, filling the clearing with mirth. Maybe, he thinks, exile will be bearable. Just as long as he has his family.

\---

He wakes up feeling great, more alive than he has since his exile, excitement buzzing in his fingers and toes. He rushes round his island, only briefly wondering where Wilbur is, gathering extra chairs and cramming them at the table.

Nobody shows up to the beach party. Nobody except Dream, who's late anyway.

He waits for an entire day, hope waning every hour nobody steps through the portal or stumbles off a boat. Around lunchtime, three or so hours since the party was meant to start, Dream arrives, smile falling at the sight of Tommy.

He's not ashamed to admit he's on the verge of tears. Sitting, alone, at a table he specifically expanded, an untouched cake placed in the middle of it, he's sure he cuts a sad sight. It's enough to make Dream slump, at least, sympathy replacing his cheerful demeanour.

What did he expect, really? He was just- just the stupid, impulsive exiled boy, causing problems left and right. Why should anybody visit him, when they could do literally anything else? Why should they waste time with him, instead of celebrating Christmas in New L'manburg?

Phil only stayed with him out of pity, and he took the fall for Ranboo, so he probably felt obligated to come. Techno and Fundy only visited him to talk to Wilbur, voices softening whenever they interact with the ghost, then sharpening with him.

Wilbur ... Wilbur didn't even know what was happening. If nothing else, he'd taken advantage of his eldest brother's cluelessness in a sick bid for company, never telling him their true circumstances.

(Wilbur hadn't shown up to the party, either, even though he was meant to be delivering invitations. It gave Tommy a headache to think about, but a nagging voice in his head told him it was only a matter of time before he left too.

The voice sounded like Dream.)

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Dream's mask pushed to the side, shockingly green eyes sparkling in the setting sun. His dirty blond hair is tinged orange, uncovered by his cape that lies discarded on a chair, and it's messy from the hood.

"Come on now, the day's not over yet! Follow me, I've got a present for you."

And so, they spend the rest of the evening and most of the night messing around with the tridents, making jokes about George and mocking each other's glides. Tommy laughs genuinely for the first time in ages, and Dream doesn't even ask for the trident back at the end.

"It's a gift, Tommy! Why would I wanna take it back from you, huh?"

They part ways at midnight, when Tommy's yawning too often to speak, and Dream has to return to the SMP. He leaves with a promise to return at some point, waving goodbye as he begins to row. A dolphin butts curiously at Tommy's hand as he wades out to follow Dream as far as he can, and he pauses.

By the time he looks back up at the direction Dream had gone, he's only a dark green speck in the swirls of reflected stars. 

It's beautiful, out in Logstedshire, nothing like the light pollution of New L'manburg. Sometimes, he sleeps outside under the blanket of night, reminiscing about L'manburg's early days, of stargazing with Wilbur and, then Tubbo, on top of the Hto Dog van.

Those days are far behind him now. He trudges back to Wilbur's holiday home, desperate for the comfort the familiar building style brings, and promptly falls asleep, collapsed on a mess of blankets and pillows.

\---

(Techno has seen this happening before, has heard the careful lilt in Dream's voice and has seen the practiced sparkle in his eyes.

Techno has seen the gifts he bestows upon his victims, the way he takes and takes and takes and then gives, the weight he places upon a common gift.

Techno has seen it in the way Wilbur would argue that Dream was the only one who understood his motivations, his goals, that Dream was his only ally. 

Techno is seeing it in the way that Tommy shuts off from everyone, now, responses clipped with everyone except Dream. He is seeing it in the way he retreats further and further into the web Dream spins, believing every lie that drips like honey from a silver tongue.

He doesn't want to lose another brother; god knows he probably wouldn't survive it, losing one and then the other so quickly. Not to the same man, pulling the strings taut around their necks, invisible until it's too late.

He doesn't want to lose another brother, but he also can't lose Phil, and he knows there are no depths Dream will not sink to.)

**Author's Note:**

> How we feelin lads


End file.
